


[FIC AND PODFIC] Big Gran'ma Energy

by Thimblerig



Series: On the Decks of La Sirena [12]
Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Cuddle Pile, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2021, Fic and Podfic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Podfic, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes, Post-Series, Sleepy Cuddles, they are all a bit broken but they try
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23469274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thimblerig/pseuds/Thimblerig
Summary: Raffi needs a bigger bed.
Relationships: Agnes Jurati & Raffi Musiker, Raffi Musiker & Cristóbal Rios, background Agnes Jurati/Cristóbal Rios, background Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine
Series: On the Decks of La Sirena [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634554
Comments: 17
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CW: There are some elliptical references to past trauma and a character tries to self-harm in her sleep. While it's not technically mental illness the POV character is worried about, the scenario is close enough that this fic might hit a nerve.
> 
> Honestly, it's pretty fluffy. But there's your heads-up.

* * *

Click [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1fTec0ORI9Fh-RcoYwvmZAENmh7Yxr53v/view?usp=drivesdk) to stream or download :-) 

* * *

Format: MP3  
Length: 8:09  
Size: 7.04 MB

_“Are you snaking my best girl, Musiker?”_

Cris’s voice on the comms is low and amused, soft enough he wouldn’t have woken her, soft enough she could pretend she didn’t hear if she wanted to.

Instead Raffi yawns easily, and purrs, “Jurati _is_ a cutie…”

The little doctor lies on her side in the bed, face planted in - not that Raffi’s bosom is much to talk about - face planted firmly in Raffi’s bosom. Her hands are tucked up against her own chest, clasped in irregular prayer, the soft plastic caps that tip her fingers folded out of the way.

“... maybe I’ll keep her.”

 _“Phasers on the village green at dawn,”_ Cris promises. 

Raffi laughs quietly. She doesn’t say, _bad night,_ or, _some things are too harsh to bear alone._ Or, _that time, y’know, when all the lizards in the back of your brain come crawling out and you’re just so tired…_

“Soccer showdown, next planet we get to.”

_“It’s football, you heathen.”_

“That thing with the balls you like to play with.”

From his pallet on the floor at the foot of her bed, Elnor rolls over and says, in his ass-backwards, pre-inflected Vashti dialect, what Raffi is pretty sure means, _“Actually, I quite like pears.”_

 _“Is that Elnor with you, too?”_ Cris says, soft and incredulous.

“I turned into a gran’ma when I wasn't looking.”

“Mmm, sexy gran’ma,” Seven mumbles from behind her, rolling and slinging one metal-laced hand possessively over Raffi’s hip and nuzzling into her hair. (Raffi could get to _like_ being possessed, sleepily and without reticence, by the hero Ex-B Fenris Ranger. She could get to like that a _lot.)_

_“What’d the kid say?”_

Raffi harrumphs. “It’s… better with context. Poetical.”

She didn’t _mean_ to become the locus of a cuddle-pile. Really. Just, sometime on the way to the Artifact Elnor started scraping on her door some nights, in the middle hours when the silence of his single room got too much and he couldn’t sleep without listening to another’s breathing. Agnes came along after Coppelius Station, the clumsy nerd and reluctant murderer become gen-u-ine miracle-worker, raiser of the dead, and - the pressure coming off her, also, the stress that forced her cracks closed lifting and now her broken pieces were starting to separate out…

(Cris would be there for Agnes. _Is_ there for her. But some things are too harsh for just two people to bear.)

Seven? Self-explanatory and _very_ welcome. So far no-one’s come in at, like, a bad time (or a _really good one,_ depending on your point of view). They’re making it work.

Elnor speaks in his sleep again, syllables clear and musical, in what Raffi is… pretty sure is just babble, but there’re so many dialects and craft jargons in Romulan Space, kenning and elliptical and secretive just because Romulans _adore_ secrets, that… who knows? (Maybe Elnor doesn’t like pears at all.)

But Agnes answers him. Shit.

Raffi catches Agnes’s plastic-tipped fingers as they start to flutter, prisons them before she tries to scratch star systems onto her skin. As the little doctor recites prophecies of despair, the archaic Romulan jagged on her tongue, Raffi whispers, “Shhh, it’s okay Agnes, it’s fine, listen to the sound of my voice and just let it go…” 

She feels Seven behind her, the light tenseness to her arms and the measured breathing, the listening of her. (There is _nothing_ an Ex-B does not know about lizards in the brain.) Over the comms, Cris is silent.

There just, there is no baseline for what having the Admonition stuffed inside your head does to a human. Agnes _is_ the baseline. Raffi thinks of that grainy footage of Romulans on the Borg Cube, tucked away and all of them drawing octenaries over’n and ov-

Agnes is going to be _fine._

Raffi tries again, this time in the oldest version of Romulan Scholar’s Cant she can get her tongue around. (She knows her accent is terrible, thank you. Piss off.) _“The affair/turmoil is ended. Release your encumbrance.”_

The little doctor stops, her fingers relaxing with a sigh.

Well, isn’t that a thing?

Raffi tucks what she said into her mental file for later, as Agnes sinks into a deeper sleep, face-planted in Raffi’s chest and snoring cutely. Seven’s hand on Raffi squeezes lightly and a kiss lands on her shoulder, another on the back of her neck through her hair. (She could get used to having a hero Ex-B Fenris Ranger in her bed. Really she could.)

It’s all gone quiet now, just breathing.

“You still awake, Rios?”

_“Yeah, Musiker. You want I should read to you?”_

She’s had nights like this with Cris, too, when one or both of them was drunk, or pretending to be. She had nights like this a long, _long_ time ago, when her husband admired her and her son, sleepy rumpled Gabriel, would come tapping quietly on the door because he had a bad dream, or he was thirsty, or could he just sleep with them tonight…? The nights had gone soon enough, her son become a preternaturally capable child, self-possessed and self-supporting, and then a stoic, sensible teenager, and then just… gone. She’s had nights like this.

“It’s gloomy philosophy again, am I right?”

The silence is her answer.

Then there are faint beeps over the comms, of Cris bringing up a display screen. _“We’re passing a nebula right now.”_

“Ooh, sounds pretty,” Raffi breathes.

She hears him smile. _“So it’s shaped like a kind of a lopsided lily, from that painting you like, except the edges are an eggshell blue, shading to sort of leafy green…”_

Raffi eases into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Programs Used: Audio Evolution (Mobile); Music Editor
> 
> Cover Image: special thanks to [Regionalpancake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regionalpancake/pseuds/Regionalpancake) and her amazing design skills.
> 
> Music/SFX:
> 
> “Acoustic Guitar - Sleepy - end 1 - 127bpm Gm.wav” by afrodrumming - https://freesound.org/people/afrodrumming/sounds/187694/ (CC BY 3.0)
> 
> “Acoustic Guitar - Sleepy - end 4 - 127bpm Gm.wav” by afrodrumming - https://freesound.org/people/afrodrumming/sounds/187698/ (CC BY 3.0)


	2. Podfic

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Click [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1fTec0ORI9Fh-RcoYwvmZAENmh7Yxr53v/view?usp=drivesdk) to stream or download :-) 

* * *

Format: MP3  
Length: 8:09  
Size: 7.04 MB

**Author's Note:**

> (I borrowed, "It's football, you heathen," from Be_Right_Back.)


End file.
